


Say you won't let go

by WritingOutLoud



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Divergence - The Sign of Three, Don't copy to another site, Drunk John Watson, Drunk Sherlock Holmes, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, POV John Watson, The Stag Night Fix-It (Sherlock: The Sign of Three)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 12:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18992878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingOutLoud/pseuds/WritingOutLoud
Summary: We lie there so long, I feel myself starting to drift off. The pleasant dizziness starts to claim me and it's becoming harder and harder to keep my eyes open. I'm woken only by the sound of his voice filling the silence."Don't get married."The sentence is so soft I almost don't hear him. I glance over, unsure as to what to say next. He keeps his eyes fixed on the ceiling, avoiding meeting my gaze."What?" I say because I can't think of anything else. How do you reply to that kind of statement?- Short ficlet about what could have happened if they hadn't had a case on the stag night. -





	Say you won't let go

"Am I the current King of England?"

I can't help but burst out laughing. Of course it would be the kind of thing that Sherlock would delete. The bloody Monarchy.

"You know we don't have a King, right?" I say, still giggling. Sherlock doesn't even bat an eyelid.

"Don't we?"

"No." I can't stop laughing. We visited Buckingham-bloody-palace and he still doesn't know who the queen is. God, I wonder what goes through his brain sometimes.

"Your go."

He unfolds his legs, so they're lying open across from me. I stifle a groan (I'm getting very good at that) but slide off the seat before I can stop myself. Shit, Watson. Pull it together. I brace myself against Sherlock's knee and push myself back into the seat. Part of me (the alcohol-fuelled part) is tempted just to go with it and see what happens.

"I don't mind." I say before I can stop myself. Bloody hell John, could you sound any more desperate? He doesn't want this, you know he doesn't. So stop. Protect yourself before you get hurt.

I go to move back into my chair but miss, falling sideways onto the floor. I can't help but start giggling again, making absolutely no effort to get back into my seat. The floor really is quite comfortable. Sherlock places his glass beside his chair and slides down to join me, giggling all the while. I've missed this. The ease of it. It feels more like we were before he- well, before he left.

"You alright down here." He asks, lying down regardless.

"Absolutely smashing."

Our giggles eventually fade and we lie there together in comfortable silence. He's so close, I could reach over and kiss him if I wanted to. I do. Want to. But I won't, because the rejection would hurt too much. And there's the fact I'm getting married in a few weeks. That should be more of a deterrent than it is.

We lie there so long, I feel myself starting to drift off. The pleasant dizziness starts to claim me and it's becoming harder and harder to keep my eyes open. I'm woken only by the sound of his voice filling the silence.

"Don't get married."

The sentence is so soft I almost don't hear him. I glance over, unsure as to what to say next. He keeps his eyes fixed on the ceiling, avoiding meeting my gaze.

"What?" I say because I can't think of anything else. How do you reply to that kind of statement?

"You heard me." He stays staring at the ceiling, but his fingers twitch on the carpet next to me. He's nervous.

"Sherlock-" I begin, moving to sit up so I can look at him properly. I don't understand. I need to know what's racing round that funny brain of his.

His hand flies out and catches my wrist.

"Don't." He says, his voice catching over the last few letters. The light from the fire flickers across his face, and I notice (not for the first time) how beautiful he is. Sherlock's skin seems to almost glow in the dim firelight and his eyes finally flicker to meet mine. I can almost see the rush of his thoughts swirling behind them, panic and desperation leading the chase.

"Forget I said anything. Can we just stay- stay like this for a while." He almost pleads, letting go of my wrist and letting his hand fall back onto his chest. I nod wordlessly and lie back beside him, the warmth of the fire spreading out across my face.

My head feels full and heavy from the alcohol. It's worn off a bit, but I can still feel it running through my veins. Filled with liquid courage, I reach over and take his hand into mine. I feel his eyes scan over my face briefly, before turning back towards the ceiling. Slowly, his fingers close around my hand and give it a gentle squeeze. The silent confirmation that this is alright.

We lie together in silence, lost in our own thoughts. My mind is still racing over the gentle request Sherlock made earlier, trying to get inside his brain and work out what he meant. What he's thinking. Because the truth is, I would if he asked. It's wrong, I know- but I would. If Sherlock asked me not to get married, for whatever reason, I wouldn't. Just to keep this. To keep us.

It's been a long known fact that none of my relationships last because of him. I'd do anything for him, whenever he asked, which doesn't go well with a long term relationship. And the truth is, I don't care. I don't care that none of them lasted. All that matters is him. Always.

Mary has been the only one who actually seemed to get us. She knows that he comes first, always will, and I love her for it. But she's not him. I love him more than I can ever love anyone else. I've known it for a long time but I won't say anything because I know him. He doesn't want this.

Yet the three whispered words from earlier dance around my head and I can't just lie here, his hand in mine, and not know. I'm hoping for something that can't be true, I know, but I can't help it. It'll hurt later but for now, I just need to know. To understand.

"Why shouldn't I get married?" My voice echoes in the silence, breaking the thin veil of tension I didn't realise was there. He sighs and pulls his hand from mine, a sign that he doesn't want to talk about it. I shouldn't ask. I do anyway.

"Please," I plead. "I need to know." There's a few more beats of silence and for a while, I think that he's just going to ignore me. Pretend that I never spoke. My heart beats frantically in my chest, so loud that I'm worried he might hear it.

After what can only be a few seconds but feels like minutes, he sits up and rests his chin on his knees. I know him well enough to tell that he's thinking, trying to work out what to tell me. His arms hug around his knees and he looks almost fragile. There's a look of pain on his face that I can't quite figure out, and his eyes flick back and forth. I sit up behind him, moving so that we're no longer side by side. I watch him think and wait for him to speak.

"The truth?" He asks, looking over at me and holding my gaze. "You won't like it." His shoulders sag and the vulnerability is painted all over his face.

"Always."

He sighs again and turns away.

"Because I'm being selfish." I raise my eyebrows. That's nothing new. I don't say anything and he runs his hand through his curls, almost seeming to gather up the courage to say something. I rarely see him like this, I'm not really sure what to do. He's normally so bold, so sure of himself. Right now he looks as if he's being pulled apart, piece by piece.

"John, I know you don't feel the same and you never will, but to watch you get married to someone else- I'm not sure I could cope." He finally glances back over to me, and I freeze. Someone else. Oh. _Oh_.

John Watson, you are a colossal idiot. He wants this. He wants me- I've just been too wrapped up in my own feelings to notice it. Trying to convince myself that the great Sherlock Holmes would never want someone like me. But of course he does, he chose me. He always chooses me.

Despite myself, I start to laugh. It's really not appropriate but I can't help myself. This situation is so absurd; both of us dancing around each other convincing ourselves that this was all in our heads. That we were the only one who felt this way. _‘You won't like it.'_ He's telling me this despite thinking that I'm not interested. That I'm happy with her. Oh, how wrong we've both been.

Sherlock's face falls, hurt and shame flashing over his face with each passing second. I really shouldn't be laughing.

"Sorry. I didn't realise it was so _funny_." He spits out the last word and tries to storm off, but I catch his arm before he has the chance.

"Sherlock. No. It's not funny, it's just-" I clear my throat and manage to gain control over my laughter but there's nothing I can do about the grin on my face. I pull Sherlock back down towards me and before I can second guess myself, I kiss him.

His mouth is warm and soft, fitting perfectly against mine. For a second he tenses, clearly taken aback by the sudden turn of events. Slowly, he relaxes, kissing me back with need and want. I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders as if our whole lives have been leading up to this moment.

When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his, my hand cradling the back of his head. His breath tickles my cheeks, cool against the warmth of skin.

"Okay." Is all I say. Hoping that he'll understand. He does. Of course he does.

His smile is contagious and before long we're both giggling like idiots. We end up lying on the floor again, my head resting on his chest and his fingers curled through my hair.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"For what?" His voice vibrates through his chest when he speaks, sending a shiver down my body.

"Asking."

I turn and reach for him, mouth seeking his in the semi-darkness. He leans forward to greet me, hand sliding down to cup my cheek. I wrap my own around his waist, pulling him closer. I have imagined this moment thousands of times, in countless ways, but nothing could have prepared me for just how perfect it is. How well we fit together, like oddly shaped puzzle pieces. Really, it shouldn't surprise me. We've always been each others missing piece.

I startle when he suddenly freezes and throws me off him, running out of the room.

"Sherlock?" I call after him, clambering to my feet and darting after him. After all, it's what I always do.

I'm answered by the sound of retching. Ah. Not good.

Sherlock is curled over the toilet bowl, wiping his bile stained mouth on a towel and looking rather sorry for himself. He really is a lightweight.

"Didn't realise I was that bad."

"Oh shut up." He calls back, but his chuckles echo in the toilet bowl all the same. I walk over and sink to the ground next to him, leaning against the sink. It's cold on my back, soothing my skin.

Sherlock retches again and I wince with the noise of it. It'll hurt in the morning. He flushes the toilet and sits back on his heels, eyes darting back and forth across my face.

"Don't think I'm kissing you now." I quip, making him smirk. He looks at me with such a softness, such a look of longing and love that I just want to memorise it and keep it forever.

"Stay."

"Well, I wasn't planning to leave you like this."

"No, I mean- stay." He doesn't have to explain for me to understand. Stay. Here. Call Baker Street home once more. He doesn't need to ask twice.

"Wouldn't dream of being anywhere else." I smile. He closes the space between us and goes to kiss me again but I place a finger against his lips before he reaches me. Confusion flashes over his eyes until I hand him his toothbrush. Sherlock's deep laugh floods the room as he obliges, stealing glances at me every few seconds as if any moment I'm going to disappear.

He needn't worry. I'm not going anywhere. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while procrastinating revising for my end of year exams. Hope you enjoyed, there might be another part coming, undoubtedly when I have something else to procrastinate over!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Say you won't let go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471144) by [Podfixx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Podfixx/pseuds/Podfixx)




End file.
